Perfect Lies

ISABEL MAYS

Aiden was saying something. I heard his voice, low, controlled, answering the question I had asked but I wasn’t really listening anymore. My eyes were on the monitor steadily.

The rhythm didn’t change. Not even slightly. No fluctuation. No reaction. Nothing.

That wasn’t normal. Not for someone in his condition or someone who had been like this for the past three years.

“…and after that, the seizures stopped,” Aiden finished.

I barely nodded.

“What triggered it?”

A pause.

“We don’t know.”

I glanced at him briefly. “You don’t know, or no one told you?”

His jaw tightened. “We don’t know.”

I looked back at the screen.

“First symptoms?”

“Seizures. Then weakness. Then he collapsed.”

“How long between the seizures and the collapse?”

“A few weeks.”

“And the doctors?”

“They tried everything.”

I exhaled slowly. “Clearly not everything.”

His gaze snapped to me. “What is that supposed to mean?”

I didn’t answer.

Because something wasn’t right.

And the more I looked… the clearer it became.

“I need his full records,” I said.

“You’ll get them.”

“Now.”

Aiden didn’t argue this time.

He turned slightly. “Marcus.”

The door opened almost immediately.

Marcus stepped in. “Sir?”

“Bring everything.”

Marcus nodded once and left.

The room fell quiet again.

I moved closer to the bed, my fingers lightly brushing the edge as I studied him again.

He looked… peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Like he was sleeping.

Not like someone fighting for his life.

I hated that.

Marcus came back faster than I expected.

A thick file in his hands.

“Everything we have,” he said, handing it to me.

I took it without a word.

Didn’t thank him.

Didn’t look at Aiden.

I just opened it.

At first glance…

It was perfect.

Clean notes. Detailed observations. Structured reports.

Every page exactly where it should be.

Every line written like it had been carefully planned.

Too carefully.

I flipped to the next page.

Then the next.

Faster.

My eyes scanned everything, dates, medications, notes, signatures.

Everything looked right.

But something felt wrong.

I slowed down.

Went back.

Read again.

There.

A small shift.

A dosage change.

No explanation.

I frowned slightly.

Turned the page.

Another one.

Different medication.

Same issue.

No reason given.

My fingers tightened slightly around the paper. I flipped again.

Notes.

Clean.

Too clean.

No corrections. No messy handwriting. No uncertainty.

That wasn’t how real cases looked.

Especially not complicated ones.

Doctors questioned things. They crossed things out. They argued with themselves on paper.

This?

This was polished.

Like someone wanted it to look perfect.

I glanced at the patient again.

Then back to the file.

Then the monitor.

Back and forth.

Something was building in my chest now.

Slow.

Uncomfortable.

Wrong.

“How many doctors worked on him?” I asked.

“Several,” Aiden replied.

“Names.”

“I’ll have Marcus…”

“I asked for names,” I cut in.

A beat.

Then…

“Dr. Halim. Dr. Reyes. Dr. Carter.”

I nodded slightly, flipping through the pages again.

Their signatures were there.

But something about them…

I couldn’t place it yet.

I kept going.

Faster now.

Page after page.

Dates.

Medications.

Observations.

Everything blends together.

Until…

I stopped.

My fingers froze on the page.

No.

That wasn’t right.

I went back.

Checked the previous page.

Then forward again.

My brows pulled together.

I flipped back.

Then forward.

Again.

No.

No, no…

That didn’t make sense.

There was a gap.

Not a small one.

Days.

Missing.

Not skipped.

Not forgotten.

Gone.

My grip tightened on the file.

I read the date again.

Then the next entry. The jump was too clean. Like nothing had happened in between. But something had. Something big.

I could feel it. I looked up slowly.

Aiden was watching me now.

Carefully.

Like he was waiting.

I glanced at the patient again.

Still.

Perfectly still.

The monitor beeped in that same steady rhythm.

Mocking me.

“This doesn’t make sense,” I said quietly.

Aiden stepped closer. “What?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

I flipped the page again.

Then back.

Then closed the file halfway.

I opened it again.

Hoping I was wrong.

I wasn’t.

“Where are the missing days?” I asked.

Silence.

Aiden frowned. “What are you talking about?”

I turned the file toward him, tapping the dates.

“Here,” I said. “And here.”

He leaned in slightly. “That’s not possible,” he said.

“It is,” I replied. “Because it’s right in front of you.”

Marcus stepped closer too, looking over Aiden’s shoulder.

“There’s no record for those days,” I continued. “No notes. No medications. No observations.”

“That could be an error,” Marcus said.

I shook my head immediately. “No.”

My voice was firmer now.

“That’s not how medical errors look.”

I flipped a few pages back, pointing again.

“Errors are messy. They’re inconsistent. They leave traces.”

I tapped the gap again.

“All are so clean.” 

I looked back at the patient.

Then at the monitor.

Then the file.

Everything connected at once.

The steady vitals.

The controlled readings.

The perfect notes.

The missing time.

My chest tightened.

Not from fear.

From realization.

This wasn’t just a case.

This wasn’t just an illness.

I slowly lifted my head.

My eyes locked onto Aiden.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Just watched me.

Waiting.

My voice came out steady.

But heavier than before.

“…someone doesn’t want him to wake up.”

Silence.

Deep.

Sharp.

Dangerous. Aiden didn’t react immediately. But I saw it.

There was shift in his eyes. Dark, cold and something else, close to anger.

Behind him, Marcus straightened slightly.

The air in the room changed.

And for the first time since I got here…

I realized something.

I wasn’t just here to save a life.

I had just stepped into something much bigger.

Something dangerous.

And it was already too late to walk away.